Trial and Error [Open]

It had been several weeks since his rumble in the hallway and in the aftermath Matthew had quietly navigated his way under the radar. Immediately after he'd been given a strict talking to and an eminent threat of punishment, but as of yet he'd managed to curtail the hazard. He kept primarily to himself in his own room and worked relentlessly on the art of becoming invisible. He did no wrong, he did no right; just the perfect amount of anonymity that worked to erase his misdeeds and shift him back into a workable neutral patient.

It wasn't easy. To tell the truth, Matthew's fury still rolled under the coals of a passive expression and it took some serious willpower to keep that composure even when the flames were fanned. Lately it didn't take much. The wrong look, the wrong word, even the wrong shirt could piss him off and turn his vision red. He often resorted to drawing pictures or writing multiple pages of made-up words, anything to occupy his brain and ebb the anger. Of course some credit would probably have to be passed onto the high dosage of medication Dr. Murata pumped into him that both calmed him and forced him into dreamless sleep. He couldn't say that wasn't a welcome outcome.

Today he found himself on that same bench in the courtyard he had first met Jiho at. It was colder than usual and he'd been allowed long sleeves under his teal scrubs and a decent hoodie to wear over them. His fingers folded together within the pull over's pocket as he slouched and let his head rest back, lazily watching wispy clouds drift across the sky.
Again, his sketchbook lay painfully white against his lap, a box of dull crayons at his side, complete with two sharp shards of broken number 2 hidden in between the colors.